Easter

Plum tree blossoms break free
From deep purple leaves
Floating
On a breeze so still
The skin thin petals are all it could carry.

But it stops my breath,
Which falls to my feet
Cradled in the petals' pink palms.

Easter morning,
Under the only Sun I know,
I am caught up and moved by the thought
Of a simple plum tree
Writing something
Which seems so real to me
In pink hieroglyphics
On a slate of green
St. Augustine.